


What, no second chance?

by al_coholica



Category: Metallica
Genre: A little bit of SKOM is mentioned, Abusive Relationships, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Break Up, Early Days, Eventual Happy Ending, How Do I Tag, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, he left the focking band, mentions of rape but no actual rape happens, what the fuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-06
Updated: 2019-11-06
Packaged: 2020-12-07 16:15:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20978759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/al_coholica/pseuds/al_coholica
Summary: His head was a comfortable type of fuzzy, a familiar feeling that reeled him either into the darkness of sleep or the bright lights of insanity. The beer bottle in his hand felt like it was now part of him, and he was t-totally okay with that.





	What, no second chance?

**Author's Note:**

> Hello readers! What's poppin?? So I wrote this for a friend, and then it grew into this big mess that I hate. But if you wanna read it, go on ahead. Comments and Kudos are fuel people, and I need some sort of positivity in my life ahaha.

His head was a comfortable type of fuzzy, a familiar feeling that reeled him either into the darkness of sleep or the bright lights of insanity. The beer bottle in his hand felt like it was now part of him, and he was t-totally okay with that. 

Dave stumbled into his room, his brain jittering around in his head, swirling like ice in a glass. He dropped his bottle, it bounced against the carpet before rolling under a bed. Thank God it was empty. He chuckled, peeling off his jacket and tossing it against the bed covers.

Oh yeah, he was shitfaced, he wouldn’t focus in on the way the piece of clothing rippled in the air if he was sober. 

Lars, sweet little cute baby boy Lars looked over at him with those quarter-sized-grass-green eyes he admired so much and gave a short smile before turning back to a small notebook on the desk in front of him. Dave sighed and let his feet carry him over to stand behind the chair Lars was sitting in. 

He clumsily leaned down, his fumbling hands brushing the hair away from Lars’ soft neck, and he kissed the skin presented to him, his beer-stained tongue lazily scraping against the flesh. His mouth traveled down lower to his shoulder, not caring about the way the small Dane squirmed in his chair. Words pounded against his head, something about ‘stop’ and ‘not in the mood.’

He pulled back, his brain now telling him to be angry. So he was, he was very angry. He moved to the side of the desk, the world tilting violently on its axis as he did. His hand rose in what seemed like slow motion, and it came down hard into contact with Lars’ face. His head pounded as Lars let out a yelp, his body falling to the floor as he held his new wound. 

Dave stood still as the floor went out from under him, riding the nausea like a skilled surfer on a tidal wave, watching as the small Dane looked up at him with red-rimmed eyes and a bloody nose.

Dave’s brain then told him that it was time to be gentle, it was time to wind down and take a breather. 

“My God, Lars, I’m sorry baby,” he cooed, leaning down and pulling the trembling body close to his. He smoothed his drunken hands over his back, the back of his head, his slim waist. Lars sniffled against his shoulder, warm blood pouring down his upper lip. “I didn’t mean to, Larsy baby, I don’t know what came over me.” 

A sniff, a shudder, a sigh.

“It’s alright…” Lars whimpered, his hands balling into the front of Dave’s shirt tightly, his body recoiling at every light touch. 

“Mmm,” Dave tiredly groaned and nuzzled his nose into Lars' feathered hair, closing his eyes and enjoying the closeness of another body, “I love you so much my little Dane, I’ll never hit you again as long as I live.” It was a lie, because the next time he gets drunk, the whole scene would repeat itself. It seemed to do the trick on Lars, though. He lifted his head from Dave’s shoulder, looking up at him with those gorgeous eyes of his. 

“You promise?” He asked, his bottom lip trembling around his words. Dave kissed his forehead and nodded. 

“I promise,” he lied, taking the hem of his shirt and cleaning the blood from his lovers' face. 

“Oh don’t do that Dave, you love that shirt,” Lars said meekly, pulling away from the free cleanup he was receiving. The older boy smiled, the alcohol radiating off of his teeth.

“But I love you more, kitten.”

So, Dave cleaned Lars’ face with his shirt, kissed him gently on the cheek and carried him to bed. 

Later in the morning, he asked what happened to his boyfriends' face. 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

“Who the fuck did this to you!?” Dave yelled, gripping Lars’ shoulders tightly in his hands. The Dane shook his head, his eyes and nose bruised heavily. 

_You did this me you bastard, don't you remember? Oh, wait, you don't remember jack-shit._

“I don’t know who it was, min skat, it was just some random fucker.” 

And they’d leave it at that.

James, however, would stare in horror at the dark spots on his face. Every single time. 

This time was no different. 

He looked up from his big Tupperware bowl full of Captain Crunch, his eyes settling on Lars and widening, the spoon falling from his hand and making a small splash in the milk. Lars only kept eye contact for a brief moment before turning to the fridge, not paying attention to the sound of chair legs scraping against the floor. 

He pulled the fridge door open, eying the contents inside. Not much but milk, beer, and an old pizza box that probably was either empty or had spoiled slices inside. Lars sighed and grabbed the box anyway, along with a beer. He had to refrain from slamming the door closed, and he had to refrain from letting out a scream from James being right behind him. When the _hell_ did he get there? 

"You okay?" James asked, holding his now empty bowl in his hand, worry dripping off his tongue. His eyes were gentle, and they sparkled with something a bit more than just worry. If Lars looked long enough, he could very well be hypnotized by the beautiful blue orbs. 

They were so much nicer than Daves, so much warmer and soft, even when he was drunk. Lars shivered as he remembered Daves hand coming down, like lightning, and hitting him right in the nose. He felt his skin crawl as he remembered all those other times he'd been the owner of a black eye or a set of bruised ribs. This wasn't the worst injury he'd ever gotten by Daves' hand, as he could recollect busted lips and bleeding cheekbones.

He felt his breath coming out hot and fast between his gritted teeth, his chest heaving as he dinner threatened to spill out of him. 

"Lars?" James asked, placing a gentle hand against his cheek, his thumb gently brushing over his new accessory, "Are you okay?" He questioned slowly, unceremoniously throwing his bowl onto the counter and using both hands to hold the trembling face. 

_No, I'm not fucking okay. How would you like it if you were slapped around because you didn't feel like spreading your legs, how would feel if every kiss you got from the man you loved tasted like alcohol, how would you fucking like it if the man you loved didn't love you anymore? Honestly, James, how would you fucking feel? I'm not fucking okay, I'm probably gonna fucking die the next time Dave gets drunk-_

"Yeah," Lars muttered, pulling his face from James' warm hands, "I'm fine."

"You sure?" 

_No._

"Yes."

James' shoulders visibly sunk, and he sighed through his nose. Lars turned away from him, setting the pizza box down and opening his beer. He gulped down a generous amount of the bitter alcohol greedily, hating the way it tasted exactly like Dave. 

The pizza was moldy, he wanted to eat every last piece of it. _Maybe it will kill me_, he poked at a slice, _give me bad food poisoning and make me die, that'll be good._ James let out an amused breath, a small smile crawling across his face. 

"Jesus, how long have we had that thing?" He peeled a slice off of the greasy cardboard and examined it closely. "I don't even remember ordering a pizza." 

Lars blinked, his mind going blank at James' gentle smile. It was so pretty, like sunshine on a rainy day. Sunshine he couldn't have. 

_Kiss me, please, make me yours. I'll do anything, just love me, I don't wanna get beat again, I don't wanna be the freak Dave taunts in bed, I wanna be yours, I'll do anything, James, I don't want to go back to him-_

The small Dane let a sheepish smile creep across his face, and he shrugged his shoulders. 

"I remember Cliff ordering a pizza a couple of weeks ago, maybe it's his." 

The taller boy threw the wormy slice down and wiped his hand on his shirt. 

"I'll get you some cereal," he turned towards the cabinet, "Can't have you dying from slimy pizza," He said from over his shoulder, not catching the way Lars' smile molded into a frown.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

James ripped at his fingernails as he watched Daves' hand slide up Lars' thigh. The redhead brushed his nose against the brunettes drunkenly, holding his small body close to his. James felt his jaw pop, he began to nibble at a nail. 

Lars was draped over Daves' lap, his left hand gripping his shoulder and his right lighting grasping his forearm. 

Dave whispered something against his lips, tightening his hold on his waist. Lars let out a giggle a whispered something back. 

"You're jealous, aren't you?" James turned to face Cliff, who was eyeing him from behind a cloud of cigarette smoke. 

A pause, a small giggle, a loud pop of James' knuckle. 

_Of course, I'm fucking jealous,_ James hissed in his head, _it's not fair. What did Dave do to deserve someone like Lars? What the fuck makes him so fucking special?! All he fucking does is drink and use Lars as a fucking punching bag. That should be fucking me holding Lars, not fucking Dave motherfucking Mustaine. So yeah, I am jealous, I'm fucking livid. _

_"_Jealous about what?" James asked dumbly, thumbing at a loose thread on one of the holes in his jeans. "I don't have anything to be jealous about."

"Bullshit," Cliff muttered, blowing smoke from his nostrils, "You're jealous about Dave and Lars' relationship, you have been ever since it started." 

James felt his lips curl into a scowl, and he tore the loose thread violently from his jeans. 

"What the fuck do you know about it? You weren't fucking around when it started," He spat, snatching his guitar and slinging it over his shoulder, he then stomped over to the two boys caught in a one-sided embrace. 

"Alright, love birds," He shoved Lars' drumsticks into his hands, "Make-out sessions over, let's go!" 

The small Dane shot him a wide-eyed look, a look of silent appreciation shining in his pupils. He wiggled from Dave's grasp and hastily scrambled behind his drum set, ignoring his boyfriends' protest. 

"Who crawled up your ass and died?" Dave snapped, standing from his chair. From behind the drum set, Lars let out a small noise of uneasiness. James shrugged, plugging his amp in trying his best to avoid the bruised eyes burning holes into his side from beneath cymbals. 

"Nobody crawled up my ass, I just want to get fucking started okay?"

"Knock it off," Cliff groaned, lightly plucking some strings to make sure he was in tune. Lars nodded in agreement, his trembling hands shoved in between his thighs. Dave glared at James a couple more seconds, his eyes studying him, trying to pry him open and spill him out.

_I'll fucking knock your eyes into the back of your fucking skull if you don't watch yourself._

"Minskat?" Lars asked quietly, breaking the glare-fest. Dave looked back at him, his eyes were less hard, his shoulders not as tight. "Can we start now?" 

"Yeah," the redhead answered, shooting one last glare at James before plugging in his amp, "Sure thing, babe."

The practice went as well as it usually would, with new badass riffs and one of Cliff's heavenly solos. It was perfect, that is, if James wasn't getting more and more pissed every time he saw Dave and Lars flirt over the drums. It was sickening, really, watching the way they made eyes and giggled to each other, the way Dave hungrily eyed Lars sweaty neck and flushed cheeks, the way the small drummer gave a half-hearted smile every time the redhead looked to him.

James felt his heart squeeze at the way that small smile would instantly turn into a frown when no one was looking and those big doe eyes of his would flood with sadness. 

_I did this to him_, James felt his fingers pluck at the strings faster, _I never fucking said anything, I never told him how I felt._ He bit into his bottom lip as a calloused finger slid across the G string, **_I'm the reason he's fucking unhappy_**. He felt anger boil into the back of his throat as another fake smile flashed throughout the room like a crack of lightning. The hell-fire in his chest erupted violently as Lars frowned again. 

_I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I was young, I was stupid, I was shy, I was a coward. I love you, I've loved you since the start, please, let me love you. I'll do fucking anything, I'll die. I can't lose you to him, I can't. I can't watch as bruises and cuts form, I can't watch you favor your ribs, I can't listen to his hand come down on you from the next room, I can't watch you cry in the bathroom mirror as you clean blood off your face. I never liked watching you cry. Please, I love you, let me wrap you in my arms, I won't let him get you, I won't let him near you ever again. You hung the moon, the stars, and the sun, I can't go on without you. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I love you, I'm sorry, I love you, I love you-_

Lars panted as he watched James sneakily, his heart pounding as loud as the drums. He bit into the side of his cheek, tears threatening to spill from his eyes. 

_I love you, _he slammed his sticks down on the drums harder,_ I never said anything, I'm so sorry. Please, I'll do anything. I see you watching me through the crack of the bathroom door while I'm wiping beer and blood off my face, and I want to believe you feel the same way. I know you don't, but please, I beg of you, don't make me go back into his arms. I don't love him, not anymore. As a matter of fact, I don't think I ever did. I love you, always have and always will, I wanna be yours-_

The small drummer was too busy silently expressing his undying love to notice Dave watching him and James stare at each other, a scowl on his face. 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Cliff flicked his lighter flawlessly and lit up the cigarette stuck in between his lips, inhaling deeply, letting him savor the peaceful moment. He sat on the porch, watching the sky twist into beautiful pinks and teals, listening to passing cars and lively birds. He exhaled a cloud of smoke from his nose, ignoring the dirty pair of Adidas next to him. 

James sat down, pulling his knees up to his chest and resting his chin on his folded arms. Cliff held the cigarette out to him, he declined. 

"You were right," He croaked, staring at his shoes, "I am jealous, I'm so fucking jealous I can't stand it." 

Cliff puffed out more smoke, his eyes trained on the house across the street. A happy family eating dinner at the table together could be seen from the window, laughing and joking among themselves. 

"I know," he said gently, watching as the husband and wife clasped hands across the table, "I can see it in you, man. You look at Lars like he's a damn angel, and you look at Dave like he just crawled out of a sewer." 

"That obvious, huh?" James joked, his head leaning back to look at the sky, "I don't hate him, ya know, I just hate the way he treats Lars," he brought his head back down and stared at the family, a small smile spreading across his face, "I want that."

"With Lars?"

James let his long legs fall over the side of the porch. 

"Yeah, I wanna family with him," He tilted his head back again, his eyes closed this time, "I wanna home with him, with a stupid fucking white picket fence and a big yard, I want kids and a dog and when we're old we can live off retirement and spoil our grandkids," he sighed and opened his eyes, looking to Cliff.

"Well," the older man spoke, stubbing the butt against the porch, "You've certainly planned it out well enough." 

James laughed, watching as the two kids at the table hugged their parents and scurried off somewhere else. He looked to the sky to see stars, instantly loving the way they shined like Lars' eyes. His smiled slowly shifted into a frown, and he stared at the road. 

"I just don't know how I'm gonna be able to get a house with a stupid fucking white picket fence and spoil my grandkids," he paused, scratching at a stain on his jeans, "I'm not even sure he feels the same way..." 

Cliff sighed, slinging an arm across the younger man's shoulder. 

"I'm gonna let you in on a little secret, man," he leaned close to his ear, "He does."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Lars grimaced as new blisters made their homes on his fingers, he needed tape or something, maybe some gloves. Wrapping a band-aid around a new wound, he perked up when he heard the door open. He smiled at Dave, his heart giving a terrified thump in his chest. 

The older boy blankly stared at him, peeling his shirt off and throwing it somewhere, obviously- and thankfully- not drunk tonight. Lars looked back to his blistered hands, a frown tugging on his lips. _What the hell?_

Arms came around his waist gently, a naked chest pressed up against his thin shirt as Dave rested his face in the crook of his neck, exhaling deeply against his skin. Lars did his best not to stiffen under the touch, so instead, he awkwardly patted his arm and proceeded to bandage his fingers. Everything was awkward now, it didn't feel right, it wasn't right. Not anymore. 

"Do you love me?" Dave asked quietly, causing Lars to shiver under his touch, hair raising on his arms and neck. He swallowed his lie, not wanting to be in Dave's arms if he made him upset. 

_No_, he wanted to hiss,_ I don't love you, not anymore. _

"What kind of dumb question is that?" He lightly teased, easing into Dave, trying to seem natural, "Of course I love you, silly." 

The arms tightened around him. 

"You promise?" 

Lars' heart throbbed in his chest, the loud thumps pounding in his ears. He nodded, resting his arms on top of the ones holding him. Dave let out a sign against his neck, the warm breath licking the bottom of the small Danes ear. 

"What about you?" Lars countered, turning his face towards him, "Do you love me?" 

"Not as much as James does, apparently." 

Before Lars could figure out what was said, his body was flung to the floor harshly. He slid across the hardwood, gaining splinters and dust. Dave loomed over him, eyes burning with rage. The small Dane turned to get away, only for his hair to be captured in a tight grasp. He cried out, hands automatically going to the redhead's wrist, trying to pry the fingers threaded through his hair away. 

"Next time you lie to me," Dave growled, getting close to his face, breath hot against the skin, "Our ol' pal James is gonna have one hell of a time watching your body be dragged from a fucking ditch." He spat, voice cold. Lars tried his best not to scream, tried his best not to give into Daves bullshit, but his hair was probably coming out in clumps, and tears were already running down his face. 

"You- you w-wouldn't," he whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut as the hand yanked on his hair even harder. 

"Oh? I wouldn't?" Dave questioned gently, pulling the smaller boy up from the floor, "You don't think I fucking would?" 

He shoved Lars in front of him to face the window, gripping one of his wrist behind his back. Lars gasped, eyes going wide. 

"Dave, please don't," he begged, "Please, God no. Don't Dave please!"

The older boy didn't listen, he only pushed him forward closer to the window. It wasn't that high, but it was definitely a high-enough fall for him to at least break something. 

_I could fall on my neck, death would surely be better than this. There **has** to be something better than this. _

In an instinct move, a move of survival, or maybe just by habit, Lars twisted around in Dave's grip and wrenched himself from him, a loud grunt of pain ripping through him as his wrist was warped in an odd angle. He rushed from the room, the sound of thundering footsteps behind him no match for his heart in his ears. 

_James. Where was James? Or Cliff? Where are they? Can't they hear me? Do they even care?_ He slid through the kitchen, deliberately knocking down the trash can behind him, _Does James actually love me, or was Dave just looking for a fight? _

He burst through the door, darkness enveloping him in its thick, inky arms and suffocating him. Cliff and James looked over at him, obvious confusion written all over their faces. James took one look at his tear-soaked face and hopped up from the porch and ran over to him, a mix of worry and anger boiling in his eyes. 

_Oh, thank fuck._

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

James grasped Lars' shoulders, checking for any new bruises or cuts. The Dane shook furiously in his hands, lips quivering for words and knees continuously buckling under his weight.

"What the fuck happened? What did he do?!" James asked fiercely, taking in the trembling wrist and rasping breaths. He was gonna kill Dave, absolutely annihilate him. Speak of the devil...

Dave burst from the house like a bat out of hell, his eyes sharp, in search of one thing. His face switched shifted from anger to pure, untamed rage when he found that thing in James' arms, and his lips curled into a snarl.

"You!" He jeered his finger at James, "I'm gonna fucking make you wish you were never fucking born, Hetfield!"

James felt his throat clench up, his vision clouding with red as he slowly guided Lars behind him. Oh, this was not gonna be good. He wet his lips, adrenaline throbbing in his ears. 

"Oh yeah?" He countered, hating the trembling hands clutching the back of his shirt, "What in the flying fuck are gonna do, Fuckstaine? You're probably tired from beating on Lars-" The hands trembled even harder- "So whaddya gonna do? Threaten me to death?" 

"Guys-" Cliff started, only to be cut off by the fiery redhead. 

"You think you're fucking king of the world, doncha Hetfield? You got it all, so why can't you let me have this?" He growled, shoving his hands against James' chest. Cliff came up and wrenched Lars from James and directed him back into the house, ignoring the weak protest coming from the small Dane. 

James sniffed and stalked slowly up to Dave, his gaze hard and cold, like orbs of ice in his skull. 

"Why can't I let you have this?" his voice was deadly calm, and he leaned in close to the redheads face, "Because look at what you do to him, you stupid fuck. You beat him, you spit at him, you humiliate him," he gripped Dave's shoulders tightly, his breath coming out in short burst, "You _rape_ him for fuck sake! And you thought he would continue to love you?!" He shoved the redhead off the porch into the small yard. 

Dave stumbled slightly before gaining his balance. Once he stood tall, he clenched his fist tightly, so tight that James was waiting for blood to start gushing from them. 

"Fuck you, Hetfield. You think you'd be any better to him? Go on, tell me how much better you'd be to him!"

"A lot fucking bet-"

"That's what you think, Jamey boy. That's what you'd like to believe, but trust me, you and I are the same, you'd treat that little whore the same way I do."

It was James' turn to ball his hands into fists, and he stepped into the yard. 

"You take that fucking back you snot-nosed bastard. I am NOTHING like you." He growled. Dave laughed cynically, shaking his head as he did. He stepped right up to James, a smug look in his eyes. 

"Oh yeah? Name one difference between us." 

James ignored Cliff's callings for him to come back into the house. Time seemed to swallow him, pulling him deeper and deeper into its endless waves. Streams of red and green flashed in front of his eyes, Lars looked up at him from white sheets and smiled. No bruises or cuts littered his body, he wasn't balled into a corner or washing blood from his battered face. 

The moment of truth was right on the tip of his tongue, and at the moment, James could've sworn a smile broke across his face. 

"I actually love him."

Cliff's hand grasped Dave's blow before it could land into James' jaw, and he shoved the redhead back. 

"Get the fuck out of here," He snapped, grabbing a handful of the grinning blonde's jacket and dragging him towards the house, "You go get your happy ass on a bus and you stay the fuck away from us." 

James watched the beautiful look of ugly realization flash across Dave's face before he was shoved inside, the door slamming before he could say anything. 

_I don't know if he's stupid enough to come back in here, but I know he's not smart enough to know how good he had it._

It was all static as Cliff let his anger come out in a string of words- he didn't know if they were curses or not- and James raised a hand to his face to find his smile still there. He said it, he said right in front of that fuckers face, right in front of Cliff, but now the real question was... did the person he intended the exposed secret actually hear it. He dashed up the stairs just as Cliff was hastily lighting a cigarette. 

"Lars?" James tore down the hall into his room, his heart shriveling as he saw the small Dane tucked neatly into the corner, cradling his injured wrist against his chest and whispering something in Danish over and over again. 

"Han kommer tilbage... han kommer tilbage..." he whimpered under his breath. James shuffled along the hardwood, getting to his knees right in front of the drummer. 

"Lars?" He asked again, gently unfolding his crumpled frame, "You okay?"

The small drummer looked up, fear clutching his heart so tightly he thought he'd pass out. He melted under James' touch, and he furiously shook his head. 

"No..." he sobbed, letting his limp body be pulled into a tight embrace. The singer shushed him, petting his hair cautiously, trying not to hurt him. 

_There, I said it._ Lars buried his face into James' chest, _I'm not okay, I never was. I should've told you, I should've told you before all this happened. Fuck, I should've told you how I felt back in '80 when we were just kids, and we could've done what kids do when they're in love. Like go out on cheesy dates and watch movies together while sneaking kisses in the dark theater. We could've watched each other graduate high school, and at the end of the day we would watch the sunset and stay up all night because we wouldn't have to go to class. But no, I was a coward, and I let him get ahold of me. I let him take everything, my heart, my life, my virginity, my freedom. Everything James, fucking everything. It's all my fault, all my fucking fault..._

James peeled his hot face from his chest and looked into his eyes deeply, finally not wearing a mask of sympathy. Lars wished he could dive into those deep pools of blue and just drown in them, just let the waves swallow him whole and fill his lungs. 

"I-" 

His words were silenced by James' lips pressing against his. Fireworks and explosions went off around him, and for the first time in a long time, he wasn't afraid to be kissing someone. Once they pulled apart, James, his James, smiled down at him.

"I love you."

Lars began to sob happily, reaching up to kiss him once more. 

"I love you too," he sighed as he pulled away, loving the way the words didn't taste like a lie. 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He had changed, thank God. Lars sat, fumbling with his hands as the cameras and microphones fluttered around them. He looked back up, remembering everything. Dave looked at him, a somber look flooding from his eyes. 

"I mean, I understand now... what I did, and all the hell I put you through. And I just wanted to say, basically ever since that night, that I'm so sorry about everything. I never meant for it to turn out this way."

Lars shrugged, a small smile pulling at his lips. 

"It's okay, I forgave you a long time ago," he pulled his knees to his chest. Dave gave a matching smile to him. 

"So, is there anything that you had always wanted to say to one another...? Are there any deep-rooted confessions that have never been said that you would like to say now?" Phil asked the two gently, causing Dave to frown and look to the floor. Lars shook his head, running a hand through his short hair. 

"I..." the redhead spoke up, tearing at a loose thread in his jeans, "I was gonna marry you someday."

Some cameraman behind them lightly gasped, and Phil let his jaw drop slightly. Lars looked up at Dave under his lashes, meeting his shining eyes. 

"I was going to propose after our first album was released so that we had money. I hadn't picked out a ring yet, and when the whole," he waved his hand dismissively, "Thing happened, I didn't realize then that the whole marriage probably wouldn't have worked out."

"Yeah," Lars quietly agreed, his shaky fingers pulling at the dry skin on his lip, "Probably not." 

"Why don't you think marriage wouldn't have worked out?" _God, **always** gotta probe, don't ya Phil?_

"Because my disease was horrible back then, I mean, I was drinking probably three times my body weight in a day. I was just a horrible person to Lars, and to the rest of the band. I- the more I think about, and as much as it pains me to say this, I would've probably killed him someday. I don't doubt that for one second, and now I'm actually really happy I was kicked out that night."

"You wouldn't wanna go to jail," Lars joked, giggling to himself. Dave chuckled along too, looking over at the Dane with a familiar look. An admiring look, mind you. 

"Yeah, that's right... I wouldn't wanna go to jail."

Phil rubbed his eyes tiredly, obviously not enjoying the dark humor they shared. 

Once everything that needed to be said was said, the cameras shut down and everyone started to dissolve from the scene. Lars pulled his jacket on, heaving out a heavy sigh, looking at his watch. 

"Fuck..." he muttered, he had to call James. 

Dave caught his shoulder gently and spun him around, a weary Phil watched them closely from the corner._ Always had to shove his nose in everyone's business._

"It was good to see you again, Little Dane." The redhead smiled tenderly, and Lars nodded. 

"Yeah, it was great to see you again. I'm so happy for you... about getting better, ya know, that's awesome."

They stared at each other, not awkwardly, but like they used to do back when they were teens who didn't even know what love was. 

"Do you...?" Dave glanced up at Phil quickly before settling his eyes downcast on the floor, "Do you think things would've turned out great between us if I had gotten better back then?" 

Lars sighed and shrugged, his hand going back up to his lips. 

"Maybe," he mumbled behind his fingers, "I really can't say, it's not back then anymore."

Dave nodded his head slowly before letting a broken smile spread across his face. He glanced up, giving Lars that look again. 

"I would've really liked to be your husband."

The small Dane sucked in a sharp breath through his nose, and he gave a similar smile to the singer. 

"That would've been nice."

They embraced, just like they used to. Lars on his tiptoes, arms wrapped around Daves broad shoulders, the taller mans' arms wrapped securely around his waist, face buried into the crook of his neck. He felt a hand grasp the back of his head, and a warm puff of air spread across his skin. He kissed the redheads cheek before pulling away, tears in his eyes. 

"Well, I'm glad we had this talk," he wiped underneath his eye, "I have to go now, James goes to bed pretty soon." 

The taller man shoved his hands into his pockets, his shoulders tight. 

"Yeah... tell him I said hi."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

_Dave said to tell you hi._

James sighed into the phone, knowing damn well that Phil had arranged for them to meet. 

"Oh yeah?" He asked, watching an older man sob into the phone as he talked to his wife, "How was that?"

_He said he wanted to marry me,_ Lars said numbly into the phone, and James sighed again. 

"Did he know you're already married?"

I_'m pretty sure everyone knows we're married, Minskat, we can't hide it after all of the pictures of us frenching in public._

The singer let out a laugh, getting a dirty look from his sobbing inmate. He turned to the side and leaned up against the wall, watching the sky outside transform into beautiful colors. He huffed, itching to leave and go back to his husband. He had to stay, he had to do this, for himself, for Lars, their marriage, the band. 

"I can't help it, you're sexy, especially in public." He smiled to himself as the drummer let out a small giggle over the phone. God, he wished he could see him laugh right now. 

_But..._ a pause, James could practically see Lars frowning, and he hated it, _I didn't know what to think. I mean yeah, I know he's changed, he's better, but... he said he wanted to marry me, James. How do you respond to that? I felt so torn, ya know? I wanted to feel okay about this, that we lost what we had and that was it, but then I felt so fucking guilty because it was like I didn't even give him a chance. _

"You can't give people chances if you're dead, Lars," James growled, watching birds outside land on the window ledge.

_Please don't be like that, James. That was a long time ago._

"Exactly. Don't feel guilty because of something he was gonna do twenty years ago."

_Then don't hate him for something he did twenty years ago._

The singers' jaw popped under the skin, the old man was gone, and it was just him and the sunset shining into these bland walls. He clutched the phone tighter, the plastic groaned lightly. 

"I don't hate him, Lars, I just don't trust him like I used to, especially around you," he eyed the worker in the hall carefully, he was running out of time, "I don't wanna talk about him anymore, I miss you too much to talk about someone else."

Lars gave a loving scoff, and James smiled once more. _There we go, don't be sad because of him, Little Drummer._

_I miss you too, so so much. I can't wait for you to be home. I just can't wait to see your face again. Hell, even hearing you is so comforting... it's just been a rough day._

"More like a rough month," James corrected, waving off the worker telling him his time was out, "I hate it here, I know it's for the best, but I don't know what's going on with you," he shivered, looking back out the window to see a darkening sky, "It scares the shit out of me."

_Don't you worry about me, Minskat, I'm alright. You just worry about getting better and coming back to us._

James felt his throat close up, and before tears could fall, he breathed out a shaky sigh.

"I love you so much," he choked.

_I love you too, now go to bed, I'll be right here waiting for you when you come back home. _

**Author's Note:**

> hi this took a long ass time to wait because i space out and cry


End file.
